


Prurient Interest

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Awkward Conversations, F/M, First Time, Guilt, Pining, Porn, Propositions, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: The ambassador turned his gaze to Pike. "Captain, I wondered if Commander Burnham might join me in my bedchamber tonight."Something in Michaelpulsedas Pike blinked at Tenaii in surprise, taking a beat to formulate a response. "How the hell did I get involved in this?""As her superior, you, of course, have final say."Pike stared at him for a blank moment. Then he shook himself. "Right. That may be true in your culture, but here personal liaisons are nobody else's business. Wanna field this one, Burnham?" he asked, turning to look at Michael, straight-faced, but his eyes sparkled.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Christopher Pike
Comments: 57
Kudos: 235





	Prurient Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Happy S3 premiere day! I indulged in one of my favorite Trek tropes—an ambassador presents a problem!—though I probably went a different way with it than the shows do. Oh, and one of the turbolift scenes is shamelessly inspired by the same in the Short Trek "Q&A."

Michael clocked an uptick in activity at the comm station, Bryce looking over to Pike with, "The ambassador is ready, sir."

Pike flashed a grin, something fluttering in Michael's gut at the sight. She controlled herself as Pike said, "Love the punctuality. I'm on my way." Then he looked to _her_ , the weight of his gaze sending a spark down her spine. "Burnham, with me."

Michael tensed, but followed automatically, that fluttering back, interest she could never fully quash. Most of the time she ignored it, wrapping herself in her duties and the rhythm of the ship. 

Then there were the times he pulled her aside and it was just the two of them. Like now, the turbolift doors closing tight as he directed, "Deck Four."

"Feeling lonely, sir?" she asked, wondering why he had asked her along. It wasn't like he needed an escort.

Pike cut an amused look at her. "You don't want to meet the new ambassador to Betazed?"

"It rather seems like _you_ don't want to meet the new ambassador to Betazed. Not alone, anyway."

Pike's amusement sharpened, blue eyes sparkling at her. "Don't worry, you're not my shield, Burnham. Just a little bling."

Michael raised a single, cutting eyebrow. 

Pike grinned, clearly delighted by her reaction, intensifying that fluttering in her belly. His humor faded a little as he offered, "I know you don't like to toot your own horn, but you _are_ the daughter of the Vulcan ambassador."

Then it clicked. "And he's Violacean."

"Exactly. Big on formalities, those folks. Keeping you all to myself would be downright rude," he said, light. 

Michael flushed at the phrasing, even as she knew he didn't mean anything by it. He was being friendly and charming, like always; the fact that it made her blood race was _her_ problem. 

The fact that he'd been making her blood race for _weeks_ , ever since Terralysium, that was a bigger problem. But still hers alone, Pike offering no hint that he saw her as anything other than a trusted bridge officer. And why would he?

"That's very politically savvy of you, sir," she finally said, neutral, the turbolift slowing. 

As the doors opened, he leaned in close, conspiratorial: "Don't tell Kat. I live in fear that she'll try to move me over to politics." Then he winked and ambled out the door, leaving Michael staring after him, a wave of lust freezing her. 

She took a quick breath, shaking it off, striding to catch up as he walked toward the transporter room. "It seems like you'd excel there. You did get an A+ in Interspecies Protocol," Michael said, trying to seem reasonable and professional and not at all like she wanted to press herself against him, wanton and desperate.

That would be unseemly.

Pike shot her a look. "Someone was paying attention to my service record," he teased, making her flush anew. Then he made a dismissive noise. "Just because I _can_ do it doesn't mean I want to. Can you imagine? Mingling at receptions instead of exploring the galaxy." He shook his head, like even the idea offended him. "I feel for this guy more than most. Not a posting I'd relish."

"Yes, ambassador to a gorgeous planet full of peaceful, pleasure-seeking natives. What _will_ he do with himself?" Michael asked, dry. 

Pike looked at her askance. "Natives who feel no compunction about dipping into your private thoughts."

"I'd know nothing about that," Michael shot back, unable to help her little smile. 

"Hey, at least Vulcans need touch. Don't think I haven't noticed the hands-off vibe you've got going," he said, flicking his eyes down her form in a way that sent heat careening through her. Then his eyes were back on hers, knowing: "You steer clear of wandering minds, too."

Michael didn't let herself sink into the idea that he'd studied her carriage and thought about what it meant. That he'd come to the absolutely correct conclusion. After all, he didn't mean anything by it. It was simply an observation. 

She kept control of any wayward _feelings_ , tilting her head, acceding his point: "Fair enough."

Pike sent her a little triumphant look, then walked into the transporter room, nodding at Zhang in greeting. Michael took up position beside him as he said, "Energize."

The Violacean ambassador materialized on the transporter pad, his sumptuous gold robe marking his social status and complementing his purple skin, light brown hair, and yellow irises. He was younger than Michael expected—perhaps in his late 30s—and handsome, all long eyelashes and square jaw. 

Pike nodded in greeting. "Ambassador Tenaii, welcome to the _Discovery_. I'm Captain Pike and this is Commander Burnham," he said, looking to Michael briefly before returning his gaze to the ambassador. 

"Greetings, Captain, Commander," he said, voice low and thoughtful, eyes sweeping from Pike to Michael and back again. "Thank you for the kind welcome." He stepped off the transporter pad, moving to join them, his eyes returning to Michael. 

Pike nodded, ever gracious. "The crew will arrange for your luggage. It should be a quick trip, only a couple days."

Tenaii looked back to Pike and tipped his head. "Short, long, it makes no difference. I serve the Federation."

"Of course. If you'll come this way." Pike gestured him out the door.

The ambassador looked to Michael as the three of them fell into step, Tenaii in the middle, seeming intrigued by her. "Commander Burnham, I had the opportunity to work with the Vulcan ambassador during the post-war reconciliation planning. He is a brilliant mind."

"That he is," Michael said, smiling a little. Sarek's acclaim never failed to warm her. 

"As, it seems, are you," Tenaii continued, admiration in his voice. "The way you resolved the war was quite remarkable."

Michael's smile tightened, though Tenaii probably wouldn't be able to read it. Pike did, shooting her a sympathetic glance. He seemed to have clocked that she didn't like reminders of her role in the war, which was...less than ideal. She didn't want _him_ to be reminded, either. 

But the ambassador would expect an answer, so she offered a simple, "I just wish I could have helped end it sooner."

"As anyone would," Tenaii agreed. "But still, you did your best. And spared more needless death. The Federation owes you a debt." 

She didn't really know what to say to that, still so uncomfortable with praise for stopping a war that she started. It was made all the worse by Pike watching her keenly, seeing too much. So she went with a simple, "Thank you."

"Tell me, Ambassador, are you going to miss Violacea?" Pike asked, smoothly redirecting the conversation. Michael sent him a grateful look, Pike tilting his chin minutely in response. The silent exchange sent another frisson of desire through her; they worked together so effortlessly, their easy rapport almost intoxicating. 

Michael shut that down. Pike had always treated it like a successful working relationship, nothing more. _She_ was the one turning it into something...prurient. 

She needed to stop. 

Tenaii seemed wholly unaware of their moment. "I'll miss the comforts of home, of course, but I do like to get out and meet new people." He glanced over at Michael with a smile, then looked back to Pike. "It's one of the joys of the job."

"Oh, yeah. _Love_ a good reception," Pike said, all bright charm, no hint of irony. 

Michael stifled her grin. 

***

As she headed to the ready room, Michael tried to force down the fluttering in her belly. There was no reason to let this damnable _want_ run away with her. So what if Pike had called for her after shift? It didn't mean anything. 

Yes, they'd finished the day's business—the final repairs on the turbolifts and power conduits progressing, the ship on its way to Betazed—and no, she couldn't think what was outstanding. Still, there was probably some very good, very professional reason Pike needed her. 

Her body was quite clear on what _it_ wanted that reason to be. And it wasn't professional. 

But that was hopelessly unproductive and Michael shoved it aside, gathering her control. She had always done so with ease; the fact that she was struggling with it raised new kinds of alarms. 

She reminded herself, _again_ , that Pike had never given any indication that he might see her as something more than one of his officers. Which made sense. She was the mutineer who sparked the war that haunted him; she couldn't imagine bridging that divide. That he sought her counsel more often than others was—well, she shouldn't read anything into it. These desires were hers and hers alone. 

No matter what her traitorous body might want. 

She schooled her expression as she walked into the ready room—

And deflated. Tenaii and Pike relaxed in his sitting area, clearly socializing. Pike sat in one of the chairs, Tenaii on the couch, both holding half-full glasses of alcohol from the bar cart. Pike hadn't summoned her because he wanted to see her; it had something to do with their guest. Michael tried to suppress the disappointment flooding her, chastising herself. As she had expected, this was a work matter. Hoping for anything more was foolish, she _knew_ that. 

Michael hated feeling the fool. 

Pike spotted her and waved her over to the other chair. "Burnham, thanks for joining us," he offered with a smile that was a welcome and apology in one; he clearly didn't want to inconvenience her, but was fulfilling a duty. "The ambassador requested your presence."

Michael shot him a reassuring look. "No trouble at all." She took a seat, looking to Tenaii, attentive. "How can I help?"

Tenaii's smile was dark, something she didn't understand behind it. He nodded to her, formal. "You do me a great honor." Then the ambassador turned his gaze to Pike. "Captain, I wondered if Commander Burnham might join me in my bedchamber tonight."

Something in Michael _pulsed_ as Pike blinked at Tenaii in surprise, taking a beat to formulate a response. "How the hell did I get involved in this?" 

"As her superior, you, of course, have final say."

Pike stared at him for a blank moment. Then he shook himself. "Right. That may be true in your culture, but here personal liaisons are nobody else's business. Wanna field this one, Burnham?" he asked, turning to look at Michael, straight-faced, but his eyes sparkled. 

Michael startled at being put on the spot, the implications truly _landing_. Tenaii...wanted to sleep with her? He called this very formal meeting _with her captain_ to seek permission to have sex with her? A rush of embarrassment swept down her spine, Michael struggling to get control of it. No one had ever—he didn't even—he had to do this in front of the _captain_?

She blanked her expression as she turned to Tenaii. "Thank you for your very," she searched for an appropriate word, "Generous offer, but I'm afraid I must decline."

Tenaii cocked his head, surprise flickering through his yellow eyes. "Oh. Goodness. How unexpected." He shook his head a little, like he never imagined this response. "Well, it is your loss, my dear, but I accept your decision." He looked back to Pike, tipping his glass in a kind of toast. "Thank you for the drink, Captain. That was all the business I wished to discuss." 

"Any time," Pike said, tone neutral, though Michael could read the humor lurking underneath. 

Tenaii set his glass down, his gaze sweeping both of them. "I bid you both goodnight." And with that, he stood and walked out of the ready room, leaving a pointed silence in his wake. 

Michael looked to Pike. "Don't you dare laugh."

Pike burst out laughing. He actually fell back in his seat, kicking his feet up on the ottoman, his captain's bearing utterly disappearing under the glee. 

Michael glared as she protested, "I was with him for _ten minutes_. How could he possibly want..." She made a vague gesture, hopefully encompassing all the bedchamber activities she had no interest in imagining.

Pike made a suggestive noise as he relaxed in the chair, taking her in, amusement still hovering around him. "Taken a look in a mirror recently? I'm surprised this hasn't happened to you more."

Heat _flared_ inside her as Michael realized what he meant—he thought she was attractive?—but she couldn't let herself get derailed by that idea, not now, in front of him. She straightened. "But—well, it _shouldn't_."

That actually made his amusement fade, muted confusion replacing it. "Why not? If you'd been up for it, coulda had some fun."

Michael forced herself not to think about what _fun_ she could have with Pike. "People shouldn't treat others as—as—" she searched for the words, "Sexual objects on first sight."

"Boy, do I have news for you," Pike said, deadpan. 

Michael sent him a withering look. "I'm not saying it doesn't happen, I'm saying it shouldn't. Romantic entanglements should take into account character and compatibility and mutual goals."

Pike nodded along as she listed traits, expression innocent. "Well, that seems entirely logical."

"Exactly."

"And completely divorced from most humans' lived experience," he concluded. Before she could object, he continued: "We're still animals, Michael. There's still something primal and visceral to our passions." As he reclined in his chair, feet up, laid out like something to admire, Michael _felt that_ , desire curling through her. Part of her wondered about _his_ passions.

She ruthlessly ignored all of those thoughts. "We can be more elevated than just animals."

"I don't disagree. My point is that attraction isn't always rational or wise and that's okay. Hell, this seemed entirely elevated, but for that unfortunate bit where he felt the need to involve me. The attraction was instinctive, but the choices were not. Is that so wrong?"

Michael shifted, acknowledging that his point was sound, even as it made her wildly uncomfortable to think of Tenaii wanting her. "I still don't like it," she muttered.

Pike studied her, gaze penetrating. "Don't like people lusting after you, Michael?"

 _No_. She didn't like this at all. Especially not from some stranger she'd just met, only wanting her for the physical.

Now, if it had been Pike—

She shut that thought down. It _wasn't_ Pike. 

Michael swallowed her discomfort and admitted, "I haven't had to deal with it much."

Pike eyed her, something knowing about him. "I bet that's less true than you think."

Heat flushed through her at another reference to people finding her attractive, pulse pounding everywhere, even as she had no _idea_ what to say. 

Pike seemed to read it, dropping his feet to the floor and sitting up with a more professional smile, letting her off the hook. "Well, as entertaining as this has been, you're off duty. You should go have your night."

She startled. Right. She was off duty. They were _both_ off duty. She shouldn't be...lingering in his ready room, contemplating his passions. Passions that _did not include her_ , she reminded herself. 

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Michael beat a hasty retreat. 

***

Tilly nearly fell off the bed at Tenaii's offer. "And you turned him _down_?" she asked, incredulous. 

Michael frowned. "I'm not going to—wait, you _wouldn't_?"

"Did you _see_ him? He's totally hot!" Tilly shook her head at Michael like she despaired of her, red curls bouncing. 

"That's not enough to..." Michael gestured, knowing Tilly would get it. 

She did. "Why not? Break me off a piece of that," she said, innuendo lacing her tone. 

Michael scoffed. "To what end?"

" _Orgasms_ , Michael. Orgasms are the end. _Hello_?" 

Michael blinked as it landed on her: she hadn't even considered Tenaii's offer, not for a moment. It never even occurred to her that she should. 

Clearly that wasn't the normal response.

Tilly seemed to clock it, narrowing her eyes at Michael. "A beautiful man makes a pass at you and you don't even think about taking him up on it? Really? Why not?"

Michael considered, a little at a loss. She thought back to that moment, Pike deferring to her, his eyes on her, the rush of embarrassment she'd felt. "It wasn't...appropriate."

Tilly furrowed her brow, ticking off points: "He's not in your chain of command. He's here for a day. You'll probably never see him again. What's inappropriate?"

Michael's mind raced. Tilly was logically correct. She could have had an entirely appropriate fling with Tenaii...and yet something in her rebelled. 

She ignored the part of her that whispered she knew where this feeling came from, that she wanted someone and it wasn't Tenaii. But that didn't feel like all of it somehow. 

So she shrugged it off. "I have no interest in sleeping with someone who asks my captain for permission to have sex with me."

Tilly actually rolled her eyes at that. "Oh, please, like a xenoanthropologist is offended by other people's cultural practices. Next."

Michael shifted on her bed, aware she had no concrete answer. "He doesn't even know me. He just wants to sleep with me because of the way I look."

"Well, yeah. I mean, you're hot. Physical attraction is usually a prerequisite for sexy times, nothing wrong with that."

"But don't you find that demeaning? It's like being some kind of object."

"Okay, but did I mention the orgasms?" Tilly shot back.

Michael frowned. "That's hardly a reason."

Tilly studied her, seeming stumped. "I mean, it is, but it's your call, of course." Still curious, she switched tracks: "How did Pike respond to all this?"

"As you did. He said I could've had some fun."

"Love that man. Truly." Tilly nodded, all approval. 

Michael took a careful breath. "He said—he was surprised I haven't dealt with this more."

Tilly leaned forward, like the universal translator had finally kicked in. " _Oh_. Pike called you hot and you're freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out," Michael hedged, still turning that moment over in her mind, desire pooling low in her belly at the thought of Pike... _thinking_ about her. Like that. 

She shook that off. It was surely a simple clinical assessment, the same way Tilly had just called her hot. Michael shouldn't take Pike's comment as evidence of anything. No matter what her body might want. 

Tilly stared at her, working something through. "Wait, is _that_ why you're weirded out by this whole thing? Because Pike was there? You didn't want him to see you go bang someone else?" 

Michael stilled at that idea, a sense of rightness clicking into place. She _hadn't_ wanted Pike to see her with anyone else. All her other feelings still held—she had no interest in Tenaii or meaningless sex—but Pike witnessing it had made it all so much _worse_. 

She abruptly realized: this was her hope. Unconsciously she was still hoping for something to happen with Pike and some deep part of her thought it would send the wrong signal to express interest in anyone else. She hadn't even _considered_ Tenaii's offer, not for a moment. 

Tilly studied her reaction, putting it all together. "Michael...do you like him?"

Another pulse of embarrassment rushed through Michael, this feeling too...close. "Maybe we should stop talking about this."

"Clearly we need to talk about it _more_ ," Tilly corrected. "How is this the first I'm hearing of it?"

"He's the captain."

"And a man. A very hot man, I might add, who deserves to have some fun of his own. And I'm not just saying that because I want to be a captain someday." She tilted her head, considering. "But it's also not _not_ because of that."

Michael shifted as that idea hit her again, what kind of _fun_ she could get up to with Pike, all slick skin and wandering hands. She pushed back against the want. "It's not that simple."

Tilly's eyes tracked over her. "Wow, you are _wildly_ uncomfortable with this little crush you're nursing."

Michael clasped her hands together, staring at them. "I haven't wanted—not since Ash. My reaction to Pike is...unsettling."

Tilly's voice softened: "That's a good thing, Michael." It made Michael look up at her, catching sight of the sympathy in her blue eyes. "It's healthy. It means you're opening up again."

"I hate feeling this," she confessed. "I don't _want_ to open up." She could hear the stubbornness in her own tone. 

"Kinda seems like you do," Tilly sing-songed, unapologetic. "And Pike is perfect; he's the total opposite of Tyler. Also, smoking hot. He'd definitely get you off."

Michael shivered as _that_ image slammed into her, Pike hovering over her, body pressed to hers, eyes hot as he watched her fall apart underneath him. She instantly shut the fantasy down. "Tilly."

"Come on, you must have thought it. Captain Overachiever, with all that honor and consideration. I bet he takes 'ladies come first' literally," she said with a little relish. 

Michael swallowed against her suddenly-dry throat. "We shouldn't be speculating. It's not helpful."

Tilly furrowed her brow, not following. "Helpful how?"

"In moving past it," Michael said, obvious. 

"Why would you want to do _that_?" Tilly asked, like the very idea offended her. 

"It's just a crush." 

Tilly flicked a dismissive hand. "There is no 'just' about any of this. Besides, you two would be great together."

Something soft stirred inside her at the casual pronouncement, at the approval of her friend, but Michael didn't let the comfort of it derail her. "That's highly unlikely."

"Why?" Tilly asked, seeming genuinely confused. 

"Because he's the pride of Starfleet and I'm its first mutineer," she said, pointed. "Besides, he's never expressed any interest—"

"He literally just called you hot."

"So did you. Should we date, too?" Michael shot back. 

"I mean, you should be so lucky," Tilly said, dry. "But I happen to be spoken for."

Michael couldn't help but smile at that, glad things were going well with Rhys. Still, that didn't mean the same was on the horizon for her. "I don't want to fool myself into thinking something is possible when it's not."

Tilly stared at her like she was speaking in tongues. Then she nodded, once. "Right. I need reinforcements."

***

"Oh, yeah, Pike is down to rock your socks off," Detmer said in between bites of oatmeal the next morning. "I think we're all clear on that."

Owo nodded. "You two share a bond," she said, taking a bite of her granola. 

Helpless heat surged through Michael at the idea, even as what they said really hit her. "Please tell me this isn't a known thing."

Tilly popped a strawberry in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I wouldn't say _known_. More like cooed at, gossiped about, bet on. That sorta thing."

Michael just stared. 

"That tends to happen when you two keep going off for special alone time," Tilly added pointedly.

Unreasonably, Michael flushed. There wasn't even anything to be embarrassed about, but the idea that others might see how she was drawn to Pike, talk about it, about _them_. 

"That's work, it's not—if he wanted something else, he would give some indication." She shook her head. "I just need to get a handle on it."

"Or get a hand on him," Tilly said, shooting her a wicked look. 

Detmer and Owo laughed appreciatively as Michael flushed again. Detmer nodded. "Pike would drop to his knees so fast," she said, almost jealous. 

"And him bless him for it," Owo added. 

Embarrassed heat flooded through Michael at the image, Pike looking up at her from the floor, expression reverent. She blanked her mind, trying to center herself, to calm the maelstrom within, as she had so often in the past.

Yet here, now, calm remained frustratingly out of reach. 

Michael sighed, returning her focus to her friends, who seemed so blasé about it. Didn't they see the problem? "Has everyone forgotten that I'm the first mutineer in Starfleet history?"

"You keep bringing that up," Tilly said, like she didn't see the relevance. 

"Because to the captain of the flagship, it's not a small thing," Michael insisted. "All he does is argue with Leland about Starfleet's ideals."

Owo frowned. "Pike surely believes in forgiveness."

"Professional forgiveness is one thing. A romantic relationship is something else entirely," Michael shot back, not wanting to think about this. About how tainted she was. All due to her own actions. Owo was right; she was sure Pike did believe in forgiveness. But that only went so far. 

"Okay, but he goes out of his way to spend time with you," Detmer said, like that simple fact outweighed everything else. 

Tilly nodded. "Right? I think she actually doesn't see it," she said to the others, as if Michael weren't sitting at the same table. 

"Everything you think you see can just as easily—and much more logically—be explained by a good commanding officer who's worried about his science officer and seeks out his sister as a resource," Michael said reasonably. 

"But that's no fun," Tilly muttered, defiant. 

"Romantic notions may make for a good story, but the simplest explanation is usually correct," Michael said. 

Owo frowned, a line appearing between her eyes. "I see your point. But since it's in question, why not seek out clarity? Pike may surprise you."

Michael shifted at the idea—going to Pike and revealing her attraction, emotionally laying herself open. Having to stand before him and face his judgment. She couldn't _imagine_ inviting that rejection. "I enjoy our working relationship as it is. It would be illogical to damage it for a longshot."

"Or are you scared?" Tilly asked, her sympathy softening the blow. 

It still hit a little too hard for Michael's liking. Fear was part of it, too, she could acknowledge. A small piece of her didn't _want_ to invite his condemnation, however gentle and kind it would be. She knew she had done wrong. She didn't need Pike speaking aloud what her own mind told her over and over again. Before she could respond—

"Oooh, look, there's your would-be sex buddy," Detmer said, eyes on the doors of the mess hall. 

Tilly and Owo shot glances at Tenaii, presumably as he walked in for breakfast. 

With her back to the door, Michael felt no need to turn around and look, her heart suddenly pulsing irregularly, stomach pitching, appetite gone. Though she was glad not to be discussing Pike anymore, she had absolutely no desire to interact with Tenaii, not after rejecting him. She didn't need to look in his eyes and know he'd thought about her naked. 

"I think I'll head to the bridge early," she decided, short. 

The others just nodded, expressions saying they got it. Tilly smiled sunnily. "I'm sure we'll be talking about this later."

"Can't wait," Michael said, dry. Then she stood and made her way out, thankfully not crossing paths with Tenaii, who was ordering at the replicators. 

She walked to the nearest turbolift, her heart slowing now that she wouldn't have to speak to him. This was probably something she needed to deal with, she knew. There were likely other people who had thought of her in a sexual context and she interacted with them all the time. Pike had even implied as much. But still, something in her shied away. It was one thing to understand that it was likely; it was something different to _know_. 

She waited as the turbolift doors open and a group exited—

Leaving only Pike inside. He quirked a small smile at her. "Going my way?"

Something in Michael melted, helplessly charmed. 

Then she kicked herself for the traitorous reaction, her mind uncomfortably returning to Tilly's words. She _hated_ feeling like this. 

Michael stepped onto the turbolift, nodding in greeting, brisk. "Captain."

He nodded back, studying her. "Heading to the bridge early this morning, Commander?"

"Just avoiding our guest," she said as the doors closed and the turbolift resumed. 

Pike cocked his head, seeming interested. "Why?"

"Would you want to hang around someone who had just rejected you?" she shot back, pointed. 

That didn't seem to satisfy him. "Well, if I had been interested in someone, it would be because I liked being around them. A rejection doesn't change that."

Michael blinked at him. "You don't find it weird?"

Pike frowned at her, a shade confused. "...no? I mean, it's a bummer, sure, but not everyone's going to feel the same way. That's just life."

Michael swallowed, wishing her body would get on board with this eminently reasonable perspective. Instead all she could feel was her senses tingling at being so near him. "Right."

Pike shot her a sly look. "Real convincing," he teased. 

Michael couldn't help but smile back, still charmed, despite herself. That was another part of the problem. No matter how determined she was not to react to him, he always managed to sneak past her defenses. 

The lights flickered around them, the turbolift slowing for a moment, before immediately speeding up again, resuming its course. Michael exchanged a look with Pike. "Each turbolift has been checked individually, but I'll let Reno know to take another look at this one." 

"Excellent. It'll give her the chance to grouse some more about cascading reactions." He seemed downright amused by the idea. 

Michael raised an eyebrow. "This is funny?"

"Only because it's you and not me this time." Pike quirked a smile at her. "Have fun with that," he said, something knowing in his voice, close enough to suggestive for her body to perk up. 

Thankfully the turbolift slowed to a stop, opening on the bridge. As they walked out, Michael stowed these feelings.

It was time to be a professional. 

***

Michael felt it as the ship slowed out of warp, Detmer announcing, "We've arrived at Betazed, Captain."

"On screen," he said, standing and moving forward as Betazed came into view, the deep blue of its oceans giving way to the tan of the continents, white cloud cover dotting here and there. Even the planet looked peaceful, though Michael knew that was just her own projection. 

Pike looked back, the corners of his lips upturned. "Bryce, will you let our guest know? I'll meet him in the transporter room."

"Aye, Captain." He got into that as Pike turned his gaze to Michael, a question there. 

Michael blinked. He was _asking_ if she wanted to join, not making it an order like the first time. Affection spilled through her as she realized he was leaving it up to her, given everything. 

But _of course_ he was. There was a reason she was so inexorably drawn to him. And it wasn't just because of the way he looked. 

Determined to be an adult about it, she nodded once. 

Pike dipped his chin, message received. He started toward the turbolift. "Burnham, with me."

Michael followed after him, body lighting up at his consideration. Moments like this were why she was having such a herculean struggle with her control. Why did he have to be so...good?

The turbolift doors sealed them in, Michael looking over. "You didn't need to do that," she said, putting her appreciation in her voice nonetheless.

Pike's eyebrows rose. "I think I did."

"I really am fine."

"That was never in question," he said, firm, like this was important that she know. "But you don't need to be put in an uncomfortable situation for no reason."

Something squeezed in Michael's chest, wholly against her will. She smiled, soft. "I appreciate that."

The turbolift let them out on deck four, the two of them arriving at the transporter room just after Tenaii. "Ambassador," Pike greeted, polite. He nodded to Zhang in mute acknowledgment. 

"Ah, Captain, Commander," Tenaii said, turning, another set of robes swirling around him with the movement, as sumptuous as the first. He smiled at them, even. "It seems our journey comes to an end."

"Short and sweet. I hope the ride was comfortable," Pike said, keeping things breezy.

"Indeed. And your crew has been most welcoming." His eyes slid to Michael as he said it, like he couldn't help himself. They both knew she hadn't exactly been...welcoming.

Michael lifted her chin. "I hope you found something to occupy your time."

Tenaii smiled a little. "I always do."

Michael blinked at the implication, that she'd been so easily replaced. It made her wonder what it was—touring the ship, chess in the lounge, maybe even someone else? But it also reinforced that she'd been right to turn him down, even without really considering it; she didn't _want_ to be someone's way of passing the time. 

Still, she kept her expression neutral. "Good for you."

He inclined his head, then looked to Pike. "Thank you for the ride, Captain. I'll make sure to relay my compliments to the Admiralty."

"That's very kind of you," Pike said, bland, but with an undercurrent that Tenaii probably wouldn't notice. Michael shot him a look, surprised to find an air of subtle annoyance underneath his politeness. 

Tenaii seemed wholly unaware. "No trouble at all."

Pike just smiled. "Good luck with your posting, Ambassador," he said, a proper dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless.

Tenaii half bowed, then took his place on the transporter pad. His eyes slid to Michael again just as Pike said, "Energize," disappearing him in swirling light.

In the stillness after, Pike turned to her. "Well, that guy really validates my career choices." Then he was off, heading out of the transporter room. 

Michael rushed to catch up. "Sir?" she asked, confused. 

"High-born diplomats," he muttered, like that explained everything. Then he shot her a look, remembering she was the daughter of the same. "No offense."

"None taken," she said as they entered an empty turbolift, Pike directing it back to the bridge. "If I may, you seemed a bit irritated back there."

"Think he noticed?" Pike asked, subtly hopeful. 

"Not even a little."

Pike deflated. "Yeah, that was my read, too. A shame."

"Captain?"

Pike flicked a dismissive hand. "He didn't need to bring it up and he certainly didn't need to be rude about it."

Michael flushed as understanding dawned: Pike was taking offense on her behalf. "It's not unexpected. Like I said, it's weird. Not everyone is as elevated as you."

"It is literally his job to rise above." Pike's energy sharpened. "And aside from that, you're not just another thing to _do_."

Michael had no idea what to say to that, heat swirling through her. His words seemed so personal, so vehement, calling to mind what the others had been saying at breakfast, but she didn't know if that was just her own want coloring things. "Thank you," she murmured, low, leaving it at that. 

Pike looked at her, a kind of intensity to his eyes—

And the whole turbolift shuddered around them, quickly screeching to a stop. They both braced themselves, barely keeping on their feet, the moment instantly forgotten.

In the ensuing stillness, Pike looked to her, eyes worried. "You all right?" 

Michael nodded. "Cascading reactions," she reminded. 

"They were more fun before." Then he called out, "Pike to Reno, got a little problem here."

Reno's voice came over the comms: "Yeah, yeah, what do ya want, reliability?"

"A little love would do," he shot back, amused. 

"How about a diagnostic?"

"Eh, I'll take it."

"All systems are functional, but it looks like there's a connection fritz with the microbox. Can you get to the junction panel?" Reno asked, impatient and not even trying to hide it. Michael's conversation with her had been...lively. 

Michael spotted it, high above them, and nodded. "I can get there," she said, moving toward it. 

"Good. Pop that sucker out and spitshine those leads."

Michael exchanged a look with Pike, frowning. "You want me to...lick the contacts?" she asked, just to be sure. 

"Hey, I'm no micromanager, just get 'em clean. Standing by."

"Thanks, Reno," Pike said, joining Michael below the panel—

And _dropping to his knees_.

Michael sucked in a breath, the visceral heat of it _slamming_ into her, Detmer's words echoing in her ears— _Pike would drop to his knees so fast_. And here Pike was, looking up at her from the floor, expression open. "Michael?"

Then she saw his cupped hands and understood—he was giving her a boost. Embarrassment seized her, Michael shaking off the wave of lust by sheer force of will. 

"Right," she said, cool. She pressed her foot into his cupped hands, feeling it as he lifted her up and braced her. Michael easily reached the junction panel, popping it off. She moved the fan housing out of the way, finding the microbox right next to the blue diode. She pulled the box out and rubbed at the contacts, which _did_ have a grainy film over them. That done, she replaced the microbox—

The turbolift jolted as it restarted, Michael falling—

Into strong arms, Pike catching her, ungainly, but effective. "Gotcha," he muttered, something satisfied to it. 

Michael's arms automatically looped around his neck as he straightened, still cradling her. She stared at him and breathed out, her body pressed to his, so overwhelmingly intimate she had no words. She held on, even as he released her legs, letting her feet fall to the deck so she could stand on her own. 

She did, but she kept her arms wrapped around him, feeling coiled strength _everywhere._ His hands still steadied her, his touch _electric_ , her senses tingling. 

Pike clocked her reaction, gaze going dark. "Michael..." he said, voice low.

It _snapped_ her out of it, Michael instantly releasing him, stepping back, a sick coldness in her gut, heart suddenly feeling like it was about to pound its way out of her chest. She looked around the turbolift wildly, nowhere to hide, cursing herself for the slip. 

Thankfully the turbolift slowed to a stop, opening on the unimpressed figure of Reno. Michael was never so glad to see her frown. "About time. What'd you do, tour the control system before deigning to clean the leads?"

"We're touched by your sympathy, Reno," Pike said, dry. Michael darted a look at him, but there was no hint of their moment on his face. "Maybe get the turbolifts squared away and we wouldn't be in a position to inconvenience you so?"

"What the hell do ya think I'm trying to do? Now shoo," Reno said, waving her hand dismissively. "The next turbolift over is good to go, princess."

Pike actually huffed a laugh at that, leading the way out of their turbolift and heading for the next, which was being held for them. Thankfully there were other crew members inside, Michael relieved she wouldn't have to be alone with Pike after what just happened. 

She didn't know if she could ever be alone with him again. 

***

"Hang on, how is this a bad thing?" Tilly asked, legs folded under her on her bed, watching Michael with delight. 

Michael continued pacing around their quarters, as she had for the whole of the lunch break, which she'd spent hiding in here, the sick feeling in her gut only intensifying the more she thought about what happened. The morning shift had been a kind of torture, Michael expecting Pike to look over in pity at any moment.

He hadn't. In fact, he hadn't looked at her much at all, his captain's mask perfectly in place, no hint of what he was feeling. He'd led ably, easily, and somehow that made it _worse_. It just confirmed what she'd supposed. He thought of her as a colleague. Otherwise, the revelation of her attraction would have gotten more of a response. He was probably thinking up some kindly rejection, even now. 

The idea made part of Michael wither.

"He _knows_ ," Michael repeated for the third time. "The problem is self-evident."

"See, I believe that _you_ believe that, but I'm not sure it's actually true."

"I clung to him like a baby," Michael bit out, still angry at herself for the mistake. She could have avoided all of this if she'd just kept control. "I was like some pathetic damsel in distress, overwhelmed by his masculine perfection."

"I mean, he is the paragon of masculine perfection, so he can hardly blame you there."

Michael pulled up short. "This is not _funny_ , Tilly."

Tilly's smile dimmed, going a little remorseful. "All right, all right, I'm sorry. I just—I really think you're blowing this out of proportion."

"I completely failed to control the attraction I've been trying to control for weeks," Michael said, curt. "How is this out of proportion?"

"Okay, sure, if you want to frame it negatively. Or you could look at it as the kick in the pants you need to go for it."

"That's not happening. Especially not after that shameful moment."

"Trust me when I tell you Pike is not going to see you succumbing to his animal magnetism as a bad thing," Tilly said, dry. 

"He's Captain Pike. Even if he were interested in a relationship with a mutineer, do you really think he'd respect someone who couldn't even control herself?"

Tilly sighed. "Michael, you're applying Vulcan standards here. Most humans don't consider moments of weakness to be insurmountable failings."

"I say again: he's Captain Pike. The best of the best."

"Okay, you are buying into his reputation to a pathological degree. Need I remind you that he waltzed onto this ship and announced that he failed Astro in the first ten minutes?"

"Yes, his biggest failing is a bad grade he turned into a relatable anecdote to win over the crew." Michael gestured to herself, dismissive. "Mine is a mutiny that started a war, costing tens of thousands of lives."

Tilly stared at her, like she was trying to make the words make sense. "Okay, third time's a trend. You really think you're, what? Not good enough for him?" she asked, like she couldn't believe it, but needed to check. 

"I'm _not_ good enough for him," Michael said, obvious. It wasn't even a value judgment, not really. It was a statement of fact. 

Tilly made an affronted noise. "Michael! You're a kickass science genius who literally won the Medal of Honor for stopping that war. Are you seriously—" Tilly broke off, taking a shaky breath. "I am offended. I am _full of offense_."

Michael sighed, appreciating the defense of herself, even if it was misguided. "Don't misunderstand, Tilly. I know that I'm capable. I'm a good officer. I see myself clearly."

"When it comes to work," Tilly said, like she needed to be reminded. "We're not talking about work."

Michael swallowed and looked away, something in her throat hurting. "It doesn't matter. He's shown no interest. Losing my head in front of him will hardly change anything. It just makes it more awkward."

"You keep saying he's not interested when literally everyone around you says he is. Have you ever thought that maybe you can't see it because you won't let yourself?"

Cold discomfort prickled along Michael's spine at that idea. "That would be highly illogical."

"No kidding," Tilly agreed, dry. 

But no, Michael didn't engage in that kind of denial. She saw herself, and those around her, clearly. "I'm not an illogical person."

"Any other day, I'd agree with you."

Michael shot her a look, but Tilly refused to back down. "Okay, Miss Logic. We have two sets of observations. One says Pike likes you. The other says he doesn't. What's the best way to reconcile them?"

They both knew it was to go to the source: to talk to Pike about it. Michael shook her head, hating that thought. "I don't need to humiliate myself further."

Tilly sent her an exasperated look. "What's your plan? Hide in your quarters forever? I was on the bridge for ten minutes and I clocked that something was up. It's not just gonna go away."

"It could," Michael insisted, stubborn. 

"You're not an illogical person," Tilly said, pointed. 

Michael stiffened at her own words being used against her. Though she disliked the implications, she knew Tilly was right. The morning on the bridge had been untenable, at least for her. Pike seemed completely unfazed, but if she wanted to perform her duties to the best of her ability, she needed to...settle this. No matter how awful the rejection might feel. "Fine. I'll talk to Pike tonight," she relented.

Tilly softened, something almost sad about her. "You do that. But regardless of how that goes, I need you to know that you're worthy of his love, of _anyone's_ love. No matter what you've done. You're the best among us, Michael."

Michael had nothing to say to that. 

***

The rest of shift was equally torturous, Michael waiting for the other shoe to drop, that sick feeling in her stomach a constant distraction, pulling her focus. No one else would notice, but she was off her game, needing to check readings twice when normally she got them on first glance. It didn't hurt anything, but only because they hadn't dealt with any urgent matters. In an emergency, she wouldn't trust herself. Which only reinforced that Tilly was right; she had to speak to Pike. 

Even if something within her recoiled at the thought. It wasn't just fear, she thought. There was...hurt underneath it. She didn't need the reminder of her past failings. She saw them in her nightmares often enough. 

Still, she was a liability like this. So she suffered through shift and then, once enough time had passed, she made her way to his quarters, dread hanging over her. She rang the door chime and waited, cold sweat dripping down her spine. 

He granted entrance, Michael walking in to find him at his small meal table, looking out at the stars, a glass of something amber set before him. He wore civilian clothes—some kind of soft pants and a relaxed long-sleeved blue shirt. At sight of him her heart beat oddly, an inexplicably soft feeling swamping her.

But no. Now was _not the time_. 

"Michael," Pike said in greeting, smiling a little, seeming thoroughly unsurprised to see her. 

Good. They both knew what this was then. 

"Captain," she greeted, keeping her tone official. "Forgive the intrusion, but I figured we should talk."

Pike nodded slowly, rising to his feet, backlit by the stars. He leaned against his chair, gesturing for her to go ahead. "Please."

Michael's pulse pounding loud in her ears, she forged ahead: "I wanted to apologize for what happened in the turbolift. I have no excuse for my behavior. I lost control and it shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

Pike watched her, a faint line forming between his eyebrows. "You're sorry."

"I realize that my," she searched for the right word, "Affections are inappropriate. I never meant for you to know. But now that you do, I think we should acknowledge it and move on." Her stomach rolled as she awaited his judgment, hands clammy. 

He blinked at her. "Your proposal is to ignore it?" he asked in his _just checking_ voice. 

Michael nodded, even as the ever-present desire fluttering within her loudly rejected that idea. But Michael dismissed that, staying on task. "We're both professionals with a good working relationship. I'd hope we can rise above an unfortunate crush." 

Pike _hmm_ ed, thoughtful, pushing away from the chair and moving toward her. "You make interesting points," he said, stopping in front of her, face a mask. "I have a counterproposal." 

Suddenly he stepped _in_ , pressing his mouth to hers, sending a jolt clear through Michael, a rush of heat consuming her, thoughts blanking. She made a soft noise against his lips and his arm cinched around her as he kissed her harder, his lips sliding over hers sensuously, certain and skilled. Michael tilted her face up to his and kissed him back, hesitant, heart beating in her ears again, this time for a completely different reason. 

Pike licked at her bottom lip once, delicate, and Michael opened her mouth, his tongue dipping in just the barest hint, enticing. It _burned_ through her, turning her insides liquid, her mind finally catching up to what was happening. He was _kissing her_. 

He _wanted_ her. 

Pike pulled back, kissing her once more, light, before meeting her eyes. "I propose you let me take you to bed and show you what losing control really looks like," he promised, dark. 

Michael swallowed hard. 

***

The thing about constantly ignoring her desire was Michael never let herself think about what it might be like.

So ending up in bed with Chris Pike _overwhelmed_ her. 

He stripped off every stitch of clothing she wore, kissing her all over, reverent murmurs pressed to bare skin— _you're beautiful, wanted this so much, call me Chris, yeah, just like that_. 

He was _everywhere_ , never letting her catch her breath, his bedroom fading around them, all her focus narrowing to Chris on top of her, naked skin to naked skin, kissing her wet and deep, until spots danced in her vision. 

Michael broke off with a gasp, trying to get hold of the sheer force of the desire racing through her, the slickness between her thighs maddening, demanding, even as Chris took his time. He kissed down her neck to her breasts, rolling a nipple between his teeth, seeming in no hurry. She whimpered, then choked it off, panting. 

Chris pulled his mouth from her skin, looking up to meet her eyes, his own dark with lust. "I want to hear you, Michael," he rasped. Then he lowered his mouth to her other breast, nipping lightly. 

Michael gave in, moaning aloud, Chris' answering moan vibrating against her skin. 

Her hand landed in his hair, holding him to her, the other gripping his shoulder, the hard muscle there flexing as he moved, kissing his way down her body. She could feel his weight bearing down on her, the prickle of his chest hair against her skin, the pads of his fingers teasing the inside of her elbow, her knee, the dip of her waist, anywhere he found interesting. It was sensory overload, just this side of too much, and she wanted to burn in this feeling for as long as possible. 

Chris scraped his teeth along the skin below her bellybutton, using his palms to spread her legs, settling himself between them. Michael's breath hitched, even just his pale hands on her dark skin somehow breathtakingly erotic. But that was nothing compared to the sight of him kissing his way lower. 

He caught her gaze, winked, and then dipped his head to where she was wet and wanting, nuzzling into her slick folds, tongue lapping at her wetness, sending _fire_ bursting through her.

"Chris!" she called out as he licked and nibbled and nuzzled over her, two long fingers pressing _in_ , playing with her entrance, the pleasure skating along what felt like every nerve ending in her body. 

She let out a sob when his mouth closed around her clit, shaking pleasure rolling up her spine in waves as his tongue painted delicate patterns over her, again and again. She arched into him, trying to get more, and Chris moaned over her, the vibration making her eyes roll back. 

He was relentless, finding all the spots that made her shake and cry out and grip his hair too tight until she was mewling, " _please, please,_ " into the silence of the bedroom, her voice sounding broken. Only then did he show mercy, suckling on her clit, light, but enough to tip her over the edge into a yawning abyss of pleasure, her body shaking as she came. 

Chris worked her through it, humming against her, his free hand pressed to her sternum, right over her heart, grounding her even as she came apart underneath him. 

Pleasure carried her away for interminable moments, disconnecting her from her body, everything in her shuddery and tight...and then it receded, releasing her from its grip, Michael coming back to herself by degrees. She slumped to the bed, sweating and breathless, blissful aftershocks still rolling through her, her eyes stinging for no reason she could name. 

Chris kissed his way up her body, blanketing her again, his solid strength a comforting weight. He took his time with that, too, kissing up to her mouth, tasting faintly of _her_ , Michael losing herself in the sensuality of it, sucking on his tongue. She ran trembling hands over all the skin in reach, clutching him to her, drunk on this _feeling_. 

He pulled back to stroke careful fingers over her cheek. "You're perfect," he said, not for the first time, his voice gravelly, like he'd been the one shouting. 

Michael swallowed against her sandpaper-dry throat. "Uncontrolled enough for you?" she said, her voice also sounding used. 

Chris' eyes darkened. "We're getting there."

He took her mouth again, fierce, body shifting over hers, skin dragging over skin, Michael moaning as new awareness flared inside her—his hard cock snug against her thigh. She cupped him, just the barest touch, and Chris breathed out against her mouth. 

"Am I not alone in struggling with control?" she asked, delighting in his reaction, how his hips instinctively strained to get more of her hand. 

He groaned as he locked himself down, stilling. "You have no idea."

"I'd like to," she said, firming her touch. 

Chris groaned again, then pushed up and away, looking down at her, panting. "You can do that or I can use this to make you come again. Your choice."

Michael's whole body tingled at that idea. She mournfully pulled her hand away. "We'll revisit."

Chris flashed a smile, utterly fond, then quickly refocused, shifting between her thighs, lining himself up. His eyes held hers as he pushed _in_ , his cock filling her, the pleasure of it shooting up her spine. She arched into it, moaning freely, getting a " _yeah, Michael_ " from Chris as he thrust all the way inside, then stilled. 

Michael watched his face, cheeks flushed, mouth open, bottom lip shining as he gathered his tattered control. After a moment he succeeded, focusing on her again. She could _see_ the ripple of pleasure in his eyes as he pulled out and sank back into her, something about it heightening her own pleasure, like his enjoyment intensified hers. 

He set up a rhythm, deep, but careful, one hand on her thigh, gripping tight. 

Michael moaned, pressing a hand to his chest as he thrust into her, feeling the flex of muscle as he moved, feeling his sharp breaths in, sweat glistening along his skin. She trailed her hand down, clocking the tickle of his chest hair, then pubic hair, all the way down to where he entered her, fingers pressing to the slick skin of his cock as he thrust in and withdrew, over and over. 

Chris moaned at the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Michael _liked_ that she could do that to him. She made a mental note to revisit sooner rather than later. 

He opened his eyes and stared at her for a moment, like he was overcome. Then he pitched himself forward, shifting position so that they were touching everywhere, Chris bracing himself on an elbow as he kissed her, still fucking her so deep. 

The change in angle increased the pressure and Michael moaned, feeling another orgasm gathering. Chris read her right, pressing his free hand between them, fingers playing over her clit, skilled.

Michael gasped, breaking their kiss, little spots of light dancing in her vision. 

"Just like that, Michael," Chris murmured, his fingers moving faster, his hips _snapping_ forward, the whole bed shaking. 

Michael's legs gripped him as her orgasm _burned_ through her, pleasure just as overwhelming as the first time, sucking her under, her senses fracturing. 

" _Fuck_ ," Chris muttered, making a helpless noise as his own orgasm took him, coming in shuddering pulses, his rhythm stuttering until he finally went still.

They stayed like that for a while, shaky and sweaty and breathless. Chris found her mouth again, the kisses soft and luxurious, Michael still wrapped around him and never wanting to let go. 

Eventually, they had to. Chris tapped light fingers at her thighs. Reluctantly, she released him, allowing him to pull out of her, both of them groaning at the feeling. 

He rolled off her, but didn't go far, resting close, hands stroking over her skin as their hearts slowed and breaths evened. 

"Your proposal was better," she finally said, her voice a dark purr, able to think again, even with the dopamine still suffusing her brain. 

Chris laughed lightly, dropping a kiss to her shoulder. "You didn't make it easy on me."

"I didn't...realize," she said, still overwhelmed by the idea. _He wanted her_. 

He looked at her, incredulous. "I've been flirting with you for _weeks_."

"You charm everyone."

"I charm you more." 

"I guess I couldn't see that," Michael said, considering. Tilly had been so right, able to see things clearly because she wasn't in the middle of it. Michael should have listened. 

Chris took her hand, playing with her fingers, kissing the base of her wrist softly, sending sparks up her arm. "You really would've ignored this?" he asked, like he couldn't believe it. 

Michael shrugged, not wanting to think about that just yet. 

That didn't seem to satisfy him. He watched her, waiting for more. When it didn't come, he tried again: "Why?"

Some of the good feeling faded as the reminder of her past crept in. She wrestled with what to say. Did she really need to bring it all up?

But she'd had enough of keeping things to herself. "You're Captain Pike," she said, soft. 

"Chris here," he said, nodding to the bed, acting like his reputation was inconsequential. 

"I couldn't fathom Captain Pike wanting anything more from me. Given what I've done," she admitted, remorse heavy in her voice. And she wouldn't even begrudge him that. He would go along with Starfleet's decisions, of course he would, but someone who so prided loyalty...how could he ever see his way to anything more with her? It was inconceivable.

Until, of course, it wasn't. 

Chris looked faintly stricken. "You think I don't believe in forgiveness?"

"Limits are reasonable. And maybe some things shouldn't be forgiven."

Chris' eyes softened. "I understand why you would think that, but I can't agree." He leaned closer, wrapping an arm around her, gathering her to him. "I told you once, context can alter our perspective. We are the sum total of our lives, not just defined by one thing. I am not just the flagship captain. You are not just some mutineer." He stared at her, a little awed. "You're extraordinary."

Michael blinked away the sudden stinging in her eyes, not sure she could truly believe that, no matter how much she wanted to. "I don't feel that way. I feel like I'm just muddling through, trying to do better and stumbling again and again. I can't even keep my head when I'm around a man I want."

"And I, for one, am grateful," he said, light, but serious underneath. "I wasn't sure you felt anything. You're better at hiding things than you think. And I didn't want to push too hard in case it was unwelcome." 

Michael shook her head, waving a frustrated hand. "You're so—that's another reason. You're so good and I have failed so completely." 

Before she could go on, Chris leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, both soft and pointed. He pulled back to regard her, eyes bright. "Everyone has failed. It's what we do in the aftermath of our failures that proves who we truly are. You're not some mutineer, Michael. You're a hero. And I will happily say that to anyone who disagrees, even if that person is you."

Michael swallowed against the emotion at this unexpected absolution. Captain Pike wasn't holding it against her. Neither was Chris. It was the kind of acceptance she'd once thought impossible, from her desolate jail cell, a depth of grace she still didn't quite think she deserved. 

But she'd take it. Weak as that might make her, she'd take it. 

She drew up a smile, knowing it was trembling, but it was the best she could do. "Then I suppose I should let you." 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


End file.
